Dreams

 I remember hearing about how crazy dreams got when you're preggo and being terrified. My dreams were insane enough pre-pregnancy, and I wasn't keen on the idea of making them weirder/more vivid. It turns out, I was right to be afraid.

  I think the worst part is the vividness. With my current pregnant brain (which can't remember words I've known since grade school--yesterday I sat for ten minutes trying to remember the phrase "open hours"), the mix of vivid dreams is particularly unpleasant because they don't feel like dreams, they feel like memories. This becomes extremely confusing when I have non-weird dreams, because I think the commonplace things I did in my dreams actually took place. I've dug in my purse for tic tacs that had never been purchased, worried about events coming up that don't exist, and have been extremely vexed to find that I had NOT already gone grocery shopping like I thought.

   The worst, though, is the nightmares. I cried just mentioning one to McKay, and could only tell him the gist because it upset me too much. Of course, it involves my cat. In the dream, I had accidentally left the front door open a crack, and Sylvester snuck out, like the devil child he is. I noticed the open door while walking up to the house, and looked around and immediately spotted a ragged fox sitting on a wall. A piece of Sylvester's tail was dangling out of its mouth. I couldn't even scream, I ran over, peered over the fence, and saw Sylvester lying on the ground, eyes open and searching, though obviously in a bad state. I'm not sure which was the most crushing part--the fact that my favorite animal was the culprit, the fact that it was my fault, or the realization that, though Sylvester was alive, there was no way we could afford to have him operated on, and the kindest thing we could do in that situation would be to put him to sleep. I honestly was more upset by this dream than the one where McKay was cheating on me. Though that's probably because that fear was more easily put to rest for me when I woke.

  Anyway, now I'm upset again. Probably because Sylvester knocked through a window screen last night and briefly escaped into the neighbor's yard last night--the neighbor with an extremely large and protective dog. Luckily, the dog was inside and Sylvester was too shocked by his sudden freedom to do anything but crouch under a nearby lounge chair, but still. I was freaked. To cheer myself up, I will now post "Sylvester Sleeping in Random Things".

  Now all is well again.

  P.S. Sorry this post is kind of weird/heavy on the crazy cat lady-ness, I just woke up from a nap, and I'm still trying to figure out if anything important involving Poptarts has happened recently, if my parent's house is magic like in Howl's Moving Castle and is simultaneously situated in America, England, and France, and if my cousin really just got engaged. I'll figure it all out eventually.